Finding Him (Covet 2)

“I promise.” My lips trembled.

He looked over at me and softly exhaled. “Don’t cry, we all die someday, the only difference is you get more time than I did. Try not to be a jerk and waste it, beautiful.”

“Okay, Noah.” I killed the engine and grabbed my purse. “You win. I’m here. Now what?”

Chapter Three

KEATON

It took me a solid two hours to get everything completely unpacked and into the master bedroom, with its ginormous empty king bed, flat-screen TV, and gorgeous stone-tiled bathroom. It even had a door that led to an outdoor shower. Showering outside while it snowed sounded so sexy and freeing.

And just like that, my little bubble popped.

He would have loved it here.

I was a beach sort of girl, but Noah? He loved the mountains, said they made him feel like there was something bigger in the universe, something majestic. It was why he wanted to honeymoon here in the first place. He’d laughed when I suggested Turks and Caicos.

It was our differences that made our relationship unique. I’d felt like a spoiled brat next to him; he’d brought out a part of me that I hadn’t even realized needed fixing until he pointed it out. I was so consumed with myself, and then, after Noah, consumed with him, with life, with us.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I pulled a gray hoodie over my T-shirt. I was already wearing black skinny jeans to which I added a pair of white snow boots as I tried to cart everything inside the cabin, including groceries. There was supposed to be a huge storm coming in, and I wanted to be prepared, right down to an emergency case of wine and two bottles of whiskey.

Alcohol served two purposes: it kept you warm out on the slopes and could disinfect anything and everything.

First aid and fun!

Though drinking by myself sounded more depressing than fun.

I grabbed a container of ground beef and put it in the sink to thaw while I unloaded the rest of the groceries. The good news was if the blizzard wasn’t horrible, I’d be able to explore first thing in the morning, make some coffee, and maybe, just maybe, get some writing done.

As if conjuring itself into existence, my laptop made a noise alerting me to a text to my phone.

Mom: You safe?

I smiled at the screen. My dad was directing a movie, and my mom took time off so she could be with him. They were in some secret location in London.

Me: Oh good, I still have service.

Mom: Sarcasm? Are you being sarcastic right now?

I burst out laughing at my phone and shook my head as pieces of my honey-blonde hair fell down around my shoulders.

Me: Never.

Mom: Good . . .

Oh, sweet Lord, save me from the ellipsis.

Something sad always followed those three little dots.

It was her version of a but.

I waited.

And waited.

Finally, it came.

Mom: . . . I’m worried about you. You’re just so sad all the time, and I know the news can be relentless. Thank God that whole fiasco with Tennyson Financial happened and finally took the heat off you. Small favors, you know? Just think about it, while you were able to mourn in semi-forced peace, those two boys were throwing punches at a wedding and planning a hostile takeover. Can you imagine?

I sighed, vaguely remembering the scandal. Apparently one of the chief officers was in a coma, his twin took his place at the company, and his then fiancée knew or didn’t know? Regardless, the one woke up, the other apologized, and it was front-page news for a really long time. And after all that, the two brothers even voted out their own father and took over one of the biggest financial corporations in American history.

So naturally, that would take precedence over a Hollywood romance with its sad ending.

After all, nobody was interested in the way Noah and I ended. It wasn’t happy, and people liked the happy ending. They wanted to root for the underdog; they didn’t want him to die a painful death.

It was too realistic. Too close to home.

And people these days needed something that gave them hope, not made them realize how utterly sad life could actually be. The media firestorm happened during our relationship, followed by radio silence until I announced I was writing a book, and then my social media exploded to the point that the attention was almost scary.

Mom: Sorry, I said too much. Are you still there?

Me: Sorry, was just thinking. I’m unpacking, I’ll call tomorrow, I’m safe, I’m fine, send a helicopter if you get worried, hah hah.

Mom: Don’t tempt me.

Me: OMG Mom I’m twenty-four cut me some slack. Don’t send Gene!

Gene Springsteen was a family friend who did a lot of stunt work and was known as Hollywood’s young Chuck Norris. My mom had also been trying to set me up with him since Noah in order to cheer me up. I wasn’t interested in anyone. And I couldn’t imagine feeling anything for someone other than the man I buried.